In USA the number to dial in case of an emergency is 911. By dialing these numbers, you can have access to the police, fire service and the medical emergency team. This number is supposed to be used only in case of an emergency, though there have been incidents where pranksters or even low IQ individuals have called the service for various reasons, including to find out the recipe for meatballs and spaghetti sauce. Now most of us would wish that we would never have to dial 911 and use any of these services, because if they show up, then something bad has happened. Now for a Desi student studying in USA, this is the last thing you would want. Most of us would try to stay away from them as much as possible. I however was fortunate to have my brush with all three of them. Yes, I invited the wrath of the medical team, firefighters, and the police, during my brief stay of four years in Indianapolis. The average American tax payer would not be too happy with my accomplishments.
How I had the medical emergency team come running, is no longer a secret or something to be ashamed off, since I already blurted it out in my previous post. In brief, I had a brief date with swooning during one of those damn early morning groups. I tilted my head back and swooned for a few minutes when someone in the room saw and heard me and declared that I was having a seizure. 911 was dialed immediately and by the time I was woken up from my peaceful and harmless swoon, the paramedics where there with their sirens wailing and with their stretcher and full medical kit. I was tested for any defects and after a few minutes was let free. It was an embarrassing incident, which you can read more about in my previous post if you want to. I waited for the bill, but even after months, nothing came. Thankfully that was my one and only brush with the paramedics.
Maybe a week or so before I finished my course, a few of us decided to have some fun. We always downed a few small drinks on weekends or when we did not have any work or classes. This one night was special because we had managed to get a cute little Mexican worker to part with his motorized bicycle. It was his only means of transportation. Anyway, it was a real puny machine. Much smaller than a bicycle but it had a motor, which at the most might hit 30 or 35 kmph. So this night, after getting slightly high, we decided to take the toy bike out for a spin. Bad idea, I know, but what the hell. We were having fun. We took turns to take it into the main road and drive it up and down the road and all over the sidewalk, screaming on top of our lungs. Did I mention it might have been around 3:00am when we did it? Maybe after an hour or so, the battery was almost drained out so we tucked it into a friends apartment and retired into our apartments. In less than two minutes after I entered my apartment, I heard sirens wailing in the distance. Then there was silence. Then there was a loud bang on my door. I open my door, half dazed, to find two not so happy looking cops. They mentioned that someone from the neighborhood had complained to them that some hooligans were driving a small bike up and down the street and making a lot of noise and that they sounded drunk. He asked me if I knew of anyone who owned such a bike. Of course I said no. He then asked me what I was doing awake at 3:30am and I said I was working. Not too sure if he smelt the whiskey on my breath. He seemed determined to find the hooligans and so said goodnight and left. I let out a sigh of relief. Had we been fooling around for another two minutes, I am sure we would have been behind bars for a while. That was my rendezvous with the police.
The shower in my bathroom always had constant supply of hot steamy water. The whole bath steamed up and used to become real foggy. I was not too fond of the foggy atmosphere and so if my room mate was not at home, I used to leave the shower door open, to let some of the steam escape. After one such bath, I quickly got dressed and stepped outside to my friend's apartment right in front of mine. As we stood talking, we hear the wail of the fire engine far off. We joked about how some poor guy would have set his house on fire. The wailing of the siren grew louder and louder. That's funny. They were headed to some place close by. In a minute, they pull into our drive way and a few of them rush out and head straight to what was.....damn....my apartment!!!! I run behind them and they walked in behind me. There was no fire. What had happened was, the steam from the shower had activated the fire alarm, which sent an automatic notification to the fire station. That explains it. I apologized to them and they seemed to take it in the right spirit. I however did not have a good enough explanation at the time when they came home because the smoke from my fish frying on the stove set the alarm off a few weeks later. A sheepish smile was all I had to offer. I think it happened twice more and then I decided that I could not stop the alarm from going off, so I would call 911 on my own and report a false alarm and tell them to not send the firemen. I think I did that twice more.
Since I always worked late into the night, I always got hungry around 3:00am or 4:00am. I had stocked my freezer with frozen mini pizzas, which I always loaded with extra mozzarella cheese before it was baked in the oven. One such night, my room mate was fast asleep and I loaded my pizza with extra cheese into the oven. I think I may have put a little too much cheese, that it melted and flowed over the pizza and over the pan and into the oven, on top of the grill, setting off thick smoke. Before I realized what was happening, the alarm went off again. Oh no, not again!!! My first instinct was to stop the loud alarm as my room mate was sleeping and did not want to wake him up at 3:00am. I had no idea how to turn the damn thing of. In the few brief minutes I fiddled with the noisy alarm, I began to hear the sound I dreaded the most. The next minute the fire engine had pulled into my driveway. I went and opened my door before he broke it open with their ax. The fireman looked straight into my eyes. He was pissed. He knew it was a false alarm. He expected a good enough explanation from me. I fumbles and sheepishly said, "I, err, well....was working late...and....err...was hungry... have my project due... needed to eat....so..baked some pizza...aaahh.. forgot about it...am sorry.....hhm... would you like to try some pizza?"
How I had the medical emergency team come running, is no longer a secret or something to be ashamed off, since I already blurted it out in my previous post. In brief, I had a brief date with swooning during one of those damn early morning groups. I tilted my head back and swooned for a few minutes when someone in the room saw and heard me and declared that I was having a seizure. 911 was dialed immediately and by the time I was woken up from my peaceful and harmless swoon, the paramedics where there with their sirens wailing and with their stretcher and full medical kit. I was tested for any defects and after a few minutes was let free. It was an embarrassing incident, which you can read more about in my previous post if you want to. I waited for the bill, but even after months, nothing came. Thankfully that was my one and only brush with the paramedics.
Maybe a week or so before I finished my course, a few of us decided to have some fun. We always downed a few small drinks on weekends or when we did not have any work or classes. This one night was special because we had managed to get a cute little Mexican worker to part with his motorized bicycle. It was his only means of transportation. Anyway, it was a real puny machine. Much smaller than a bicycle but it had a motor, which at the most might hit 30 or 35 kmph. So this night, after getting slightly high, we decided to take the toy bike out for a spin. Bad idea, I know, but what the hell. We were having fun. We took turns to take it into the main road and drive it up and down the road and all over the sidewalk, screaming on top of our lungs. Did I mention it might have been around 3:00am when we did it? Maybe after an hour or so, the battery was almost drained out so we tucked it into a friends apartment and retired into our apartments. In less than two minutes after I entered my apartment, I heard sirens wailing in the distance. Then there was silence. Then there was a loud bang on my door. I open my door, half dazed, to find two not so happy looking cops. They mentioned that someone from the neighborhood had complained to them that some hooligans were driving a small bike up and down the street and making a lot of noise and that they sounded drunk. He asked me if I knew of anyone who owned such a bike. Of course I said no. He then asked me what I was doing awake at 3:30am and I said I was working. Not too sure if he smelt the whiskey on my breath. He seemed determined to find the hooligans and so said goodnight and left. I let out a sigh of relief. Had we been fooling around for another two minutes, I am sure we would have been behind bars for a while. That was my rendezvous with the police.
The shower in my bathroom always had constant supply of hot steamy water. The whole bath steamed up and used to become real foggy. I was not too fond of the foggy atmosphere and so if my room mate was not at home, I used to leave the shower door open, to let some of the steam escape. After one such bath, I quickly got dressed and stepped outside to my friend's apartment right in front of mine. As we stood talking, we hear the wail of the fire engine far off. We joked about how some poor guy would have set his house on fire. The wailing of the siren grew louder and louder. That's funny. They were headed to some place close by. In a minute, they pull into our drive way and a few of them rush out and head straight to what was.....damn....my apartment!!!! I run behind them and they walked in behind me. There was no fire. What had happened was, the steam from the shower had activated the fire alarm, which sent an automatic notification to the fire station. That explains it. I apologized to them and they seemed to take it in the right spirit. I however did not have a good enough explanation at the time when they came home because the smoke from my fish frying on the stove set the alarm off a few weeks later. A sheepish smile was all I had to offer. I think it happened twice more and then I decided that I could not stop the alarm from going off, so I would call 911 on my own and report a false alarm and tell them to not send the firemen. I think I did that twice more.
Since I always worked late into the night, I always got hungry around 3:00am or 4:00am. I had stocked my freezer with frozen mini pizzas, which I always loaded with extra mozzarella cheese before it was baked in the oven. One such night, my room mate was fast asleep and I loaded my pizza with extra cheese into the oven. I think I may have put a little too much cheese, that it melted and flowed over the pizza and over the pan and into the oven, on top of the grill, setting off thick smoke. Before I realized what was happening, the alarm went off again. Oh no, not again!!! My first instinct was to stop the loud alarm as my room mate was sleeping and did not want to wake him up at 3:00am. I had no idea how to turn the damn thing of. In the few brief minutes I fiddled with the noisy alarm, I began to hear the sound I dreaded the most. The next minute the fire engine had pulled into my driveway. I went and opened my door before he broke it open with their ax. The fireman looked straight into my eyes. He was pissed. He knew it was a false alarm. He expected a good enough explanation from me. I fumbles and sheepishly said, "I, err, well....was working late...and....err...was hungry... have my project due... needed to eat....so..baked some pizza...aaahh.. forgot about it...am sorry.....hhm... would you like to try some pizza?"
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